


o children, rejoice

by xiseoks



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Byun Baekhyun-centric, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Uhhh cult themes lol, slight fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11451984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiseoks/pseuds/xiseoks
Summary: Baekhyun spends the rest of his youth strumming a guitar and telling stories of the apocalypse to those willing to listen, as well as finding the man he'd lost in the chaos.





	o children, rejoice

**Author's Note:**

> WELL. I'm not exaggerating when I say I did way more with this prompt than was necessary. It took a totally different turn, and prompter, you probably weren't expecting this at all, but I hope it's still to your enjoyment <3 it's more baekhyun-centric than it is xiubaek tbh, but xiubaek is a constant theme, of course. Thank you to A for betaing and looking over this!! Title is taken from [O'Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnhBp16nBs8); I really recommend a listen if you want to get a better feel for the story c: Also - red velvet as evil deities, am I right?

The wooden steps wobble beneath his feet as he trudges down the staircase, guitar slung over his shoulder. There’s a soft croon of old, jazz music playing from somewhere in the building, and it has Baekhyun humming along even if the melody is unfamiliar. He can always appreciate a good tune.

Turns out it’s the innkeeper playing the jazz. She’s sat in the center of her main room, legs kicked up onto a stool as she rests against a wobbly chair. She hums as well, happy and as content as she could be in her circumstances, until she spots Baekhyun, and straightens up.

“Leaving already?” she asks, worry in her words.

“I’m afraid so,” Baekhyun says, then proceeds to pull his coin bag out, the money rustling and clinking against each other.

“Oh no!” Mrs. Kang exclaims, quickly raising her hands to keep Baekhyun from making any further movement. “Please, it’s on the house.”

“But I stayed a whole week,” Baekhyun says. “That’s a quarter, isn’t it?”

“Not for you,” Mrs. Kang says with a grin. “You’ve done so much for us already.”

Baekhyun shrugs modestly. “All I do is prance around the village with my guitar and some words.”

“Words can be very valuable in this age, my dear. What you do is share your stories with us, in a form of art that is very rare now. I think that’s remarkable.”

“You give me far too much credit, Mrs. Kang,” Baekhyun says sheepishly, his coin bag still in his palm.

“On the contrary, you’re not offered nearly enough!” Mrs. Kang says, then stands to walk over, her age showing in her gait. “You are so special to the people of our humble little village, don’t you know? We look forward to your arrival every few months, and we’ll look forward to the next.”

“The next,” Baekhyun echoes quietly. “I’m not sure when the next will be. I – I care for you all, I do – very deeply. But I think it’s time I move on, I’m still – I still haven’t, well… Done what I need to do.”

Mrs. Kang’s face falls at this, obvious disappointment in her features. Her head drops as well, and Baekhyun thinks he must be the devil to have to break it to her like this, so suddenly, so abruptly. In truth, his presence shouldn’t be too missed. He was not as important as Mrs. Kang gave him credit for. They’ll forget him in a moment’s time.

“I see,” the innkeeper says, very quietly. “This is the last time we will meet, then?”

“Now, I’m not saying that,” Baekhyun is quick to say. “I trust that we all will meet again. That I will see you, and Sohyun, and Seoyun again. Perhaps in better circumstances.” Baekhyun makes a vague gesture to the poorly-built shack around them. “But for now, I must keep moving.”

“And the villagers? Do you plan to say goodbye?”

“I think that might only hurt too much,” Baekhyun says truthfully. There are far too many children he’s grown fond of in this village, and if they were to cling onto him with their tiny fists and beg him not to leave, he might just give in.

Mrs. Kang saddens even further, her voice lowering. “I understand,” she says. “Whatever it is you need to get done… I hope you do. And I hope that when you do, we’ll all meet again.”

“We will,” Baekhyun assures. The coin bag still jingles in his palm as he plays with it, tossing it from hand to hand.

Ultimately, he holds it out to Mrs. Kang instead.

“Here,” he says softly, and with a smile on his face. “A parting gift.”

“I can’t–”

“Don’t argue. Just take it. I have enough to keep me going for now.”

The sternness in his words has the innkeeper pausing, brows drawn together in worry before she finally takes the coin bag.

“Thank you,” she mutters.

Baekhyun shakes his head, slowly stepping backwards. “Thank _you_ ,” he says, and bows at her, arms at his sides. With a last smile her way, he straightens and turns, hand once again wrapped around the strap of his guitar as he steps out into open air.

The door shuts quietly behind him, and he sighs, wondering what route to take to find his way out of the village without anyone noticing. Of course, with a giant guitar strapped to his back, someone is bound to notice.

Truthfully, it would depend on where he was headed. Truthfully, he has no clue where he is headed. All he knows is that he needs to move on from the same five or so villages he likes to stop at every few weeks. He’s always liked routine. Routine is good. And he figured that maybe if he circled the same towns over and over, Kim Minseok would show himself eventually.

 

 

He hasn’t, though. Not in years.

This is why Baekhyun must move on, because his efforts in the same villages have proved futile. Of course, it doesn’t help that he’s never uttered a single word about Kim Minseok to anyone, never asking if he’d been seen around, never bringing him up.

He is afraid of the answers he might get.

He is afraid that maybe, just by chance, someone _will_ know who Kim Minseok is and indulge in Baekhyun’s worst fears of what could have happened to his best friend.

Best friend and, well, something else, but that’s never been quite clear between them. Baekhyun never had the chance to clear it up before he’d lost him.

So Kim Minseok is his secret. Baekhyun has loads of secrets, but what everyone else doesn’t know is that Baekhyun reveals his deepest ones by song every day, in words that might seem lighthearted and hopeful. In truth, they are just vague and twisted slightly for the sake of a children’s story.

He kicks through the dust and the dirt, through empty patches of grass and weeds. It’s still early morning, so there’s a chance he may get to leave without one of the kids spotting him.

It’s not a kid that spots him, however.

“Byun Baekhyun!” calls a voice, low and loud and much too gleeful for the morning. “You on your way already?”

Park Chanyeol jogs over with a hefty grin. “Not without breakfast, I hope?” he adds.

“Thank you, but I really should get-”

“Baekhyunnie!”

And with the intrusion of a new childlike voice, Baekhyun’s done for.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun greets the small child with a smile, crouching to his height as he runs over. He collides into Baekhyun with widespread arms, clinging onto him for dear life as Baekhyun stands once more, Sehun wrapped around him fondly. “My little koala.”

“Is Baekhyunnie going to leave us again?” Sehun murmurs into his neck, tiny fists clamping around Baekhyun’s shirt.

The kid doesn’t miss anything. “I... “ Baekhyun says, unsure what to say. He doesn’t want to lie to him, nor does he want to disappoint him.

Then Sehun begins to speak again, hushed this time. “Not without a song first, right? That’s all I want before you leave, please?”

With a plea as soft and hopeful as that, who is Baekhyun to deny him?

“Have you eaten breakfast?”

Sehun nods his affirmation. “I just finished.”

“What about the other children?”

“Everyone except Soojung. She says her tummy hurts.” Sehun looks at him through wide, pleading eyes. “Maybe a story from Baekhyunnie will make her feel better.”

“You shouldn’t use her malady to get a song out of me,” Baekhyun teases, but nods in agreement nonetheless. He lowers Sehun to the ground, gesturing for him to gather the rest.

Baekhyun heaves out a sigh as he swings his guitar back off of his body. Chanyeol comes up, lips pursing into a frown. “Are you really leaving after this?”

“I am,” Baekhyun answers. “Might be for good this time. Or at least for a while.”

Chanyeol’s brows furrow before he nods in understanding, clapping a hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I wish you well in your future endeavors, friend.”

“And I you,” Baekhyun returns, smiling fondly as he tunes his guitar for one last story. “I’ll make this a good one.”

“It will be, no doubt.”

Chanyeol marches off to where the crowd of people begin forming, mostly made up of small children who are always ready and willing for a song from their favorite minstrel. Amongst the little ones, Baekhyun spots Soojung sitting on a carpet set up by her mother on the dirt, rubbing at her eyes sleepily and clutching her teddy to her chest. He smiles at her, and she notices, beaming back.

“Are you leaving already, Baekhyun?” calls one of the older kids, Luhan.

“I am, little deer,” Baekhyun says. “But I have one last story to tell before I go, so if you’re all willing to let me, I’ll prepare myself.”

There are murmurs of agreement, and happy cheers from the smaller kids, to fond looks from the older villagers.

“This is the tale of the three deities of chaos,” Baekhyun begins, just as the children begin to _hush_ one another. He strums, a soft melody slowly picking up as he once again delves into another story.

“They were sisters, but do not be fooled by their youthful and angelic appearances, for they were much more than their beauty. See, these sisters love - by no surprise - _chaos_. They thrive off of human screams, relished in how fickle lives are. So one day - they decided to play a game. In this game, each sister would take a turn striking earth with a form of chaos, and the sister who does the most damage would be declared the winner.

“The first sister to go was the eldest, a silver-haired deity by the name of Joohyun. She was known for her cleverness and intellect, but most especially for her ruby red eyes that struck fear in all who were unfortunate enough to come across her. She struck the earth and its mortals with a famine, knowing well that a slow death would be most effective. She wasn’t wrong; many fell ill and starved.

“The second sister was the slyest of them all, a deity named Sooyoung with golden locks and stony eyes. She was bright and keen and perhaps the most peculiar of them all, possessing a witty and droll persona despite her desire to destroy everything in her path. So she struck the mortals with a flood. It wasn’t long before much of the earth and its beings were deep underwater, and all she did was smile keenly.

“The third sister was a fiery-haired deity named Yerim, and she was perhaps the most dangerous of all. She was young, but the name _deity of chaos_ suited her especially well, as all she desired was mayhem. She would stop at nothing to see the world go up in flames, and that’s exactly what she saw as she set the world on fire.

“By then, much of the earth had been starved, flooded, and burned, but the sisters decided they had all won, because in the end, they got what they desired the most - the destruction of humanity, known to us as our apocalypse. The mortals that were left fled to hide, doing all they could to survive the wrath of the three deities. As victims of their game, they began to lose hope, because they had lost their loved ones, lost their homes and families and their entire lives. Everything was bleak, everything was desolate. And all the deities could do was watch and laugh.”

Baekhyun’s audience listens closely, eyes wide with fascination as he continues. On cue, the melody of his guitar picks up as he begins to cheer into the morning air.

“Then, by a twist of fate, the mortals rise from the ashes of their homes to reclaim their land! _‘No deity can halt us!’ _they yell! _‘No amount of floods and fire and famine can destroy us! We have strong hearts and strong minds and we will not be defeated! We will pick up our shattered hearts and rebuild our lives and show them just what we are made of!’”___

There are cheers from the small crowd at this point, the children pumping their fists and parents shouting their agreement. Baekhyun thrives from their cheers, and throws in a little more passion.

“And with that,” he says, “the deities vanished and left humanity to be. So you see - you may think it’s tough now, and it is, no doubt - but you have something to be proud of. You are a survivor, you have shown the deities of chaos that you will not be pushed down by their attempts to destroy. You are strong. Day by day, we will restore our homeland to the beauty it once was, and we will do it with our hearts and minds intact. The deities will hide their faces in embarrassment. And we...” Baekhyun pauses for dramatic effect, knowing his audience is hanging onto every single word with anticipation, “...we will be victorious.”

A loud thundering of applause bursts immediately after, hoots and cheers amongst them. Baekhyun stands tall and proud, that familiar surge of gratification running through his veins. It’s hard for him sometimes, to pick himself up and move on, but as he stands before this crowd of strong, passionate people, he remembers why he does this at all.

“I thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen,” Baekhyun calls, doing a bow of sorts.

“One more story, please, Baekhyunnie!” Sehun yells, hands cupped around his mouth.

“Yes, please, one more!”

Baekhyun had expected this, but he smiles modestly all the same. “I don’t think I have enough time, my dears-”

“Tell the story about the man who lost his angel!”

It isn’t a rare request, but it always has Baekhyun faltering. His fingers freeze over the strands of his guitar in hesitance, and his smile twitches for the briefest second. He has no choice but to accept, given the amount of cheers and pleas coming from the children.

“This will be the last,” Baekhyun says. “Promise?”

“Promise!” they yell in unison.

And so Baekhyun lifts his chin proudly, and opens his mouth.

“Under a golden sun,” he begins, his words stiff, “there were two souls. One was bold and the other less, one was precise and the other quite a mess. Some might argue that they were not two, but one - but the only entity who knows the truth--” he pauses, --is the sparkling sun.”

His fingers strum gently then, his words picking up into a mild melody.

“The mess was a man who had very little, the other an angel, if a tad brittle. He was an angel in the sense that he would always be there for the mess of a man, hand in his, all over the land; except he wasn’t an angel, not really - just another man like him, but in his eyes, he bore wings and shone like the heavens. They were always together, and love was certainly in the picture. That is the main idea, and that is all you really need to understand.”

It’s dead silent in the village as they listen, which has trepidation stirring in Baekhyun’s gut. He pushes on.

“Then, one gray day, the deities of chaos struck the earth, and the man and his angel were separated. They drew further and further apart day by day by the floods and the fire, and there was little to no chance of ever finding each other again. The man was distraught; he’d lost his angel in the chaos, and he is left to wander this apocalyptic wasteland alone, with no one to hold.”

“Does he find his angel, Baekkie?”

Baekhyun smiles patiently. “You know the answer to that, Sehun,” he responds, and starts with the guitar once more.

“Under the midnight moon, at a land far from where he began, the man eyes a familiar figure against the horizon. His eyes are slanted like he remembers, smile wide and a little gummy, and it may just have been in his head - but there were rays casted down from the heavens. This was it, he thought, his angel - his guardian - his soulmate - he had found him. Or was it the other way around? Whatever way you see it, they met each other halfway across the meadow, eyes never parting.

“The man took the angel’s hand in his and smiled softly, whispering words he’d never thought he’d get to say - ’I’ve found you’.”

“Ooh, ooh!” calls little Jongin in the crowd, eyes wide with excitement as he waves his hand in the air. Others groan at his interruption, ruining the mood that had been built, but Baekhyun can only smile fondly as he gets his words out in excitement. “I know what the angel says next, can I please?”

Baekhyun chuckles, before giving him a nod and a gesture to continue.

Jongin beams, heaving out a deep breath, and citing in a small voice, “The angel said, ‘And I you. We will always find each other; no one dares come between us, not even fate herself.’”

“And once more the two souls became one, only this time - under the midnight moon. The day was long and rough, from dawn to dusk, but now, with the moon as their witness, they can take a step forward - and this time, together.”

Applause bursts immediately from the last word, because this crowd has heard it all before and they know exactly when the cue is. Baekhyun feels that familiar surge of pride run through him once again, even if it is a bit tainted with something else, something bitter.

“It has truly been a pleasure,” Baekhyun says, “but I must be on my way, dear children.”

There are elongated ‘aww’s amongst the throng of kids, and some even run up to give Baekhyun one last hug as he begins to set his guitar away.

“I’m really glad the man finds his angel again,” Sehun says as he embraces Baekhyun tightly, and finally letting go. “I’ll miss you, Baekhyunnie.”

“I’ll miss you too, little one,” Baekhyun says, patting his head and watching as he rushes off to stand by his mother.

“Goodbye, Baek!”

“See ya, Baekhyun!”

The farewells have emotion stirring in Baekhyun as he waves at them, watching the crowd disperse. It was this very reason he had wanted to avoid goodbyes in the first place; he never seemed to handle them well.

“We’ll all meet again, I promise!” Baekhyun yells, waving one last time as he settles his guitar back into its case. Sehun is still here, standing next to his mother and looking back at Baekhyun with sad eyes. Baekhyun offers one last smile of reassurance, and this seems to cheer the child up, at least for the moment.

Once Sehun - the last of the kids - is guided away by his mother, Baekhyun thinks he can finally pack up.

He thinks, that is, until the elusive Do Kyungsoo comes up to him.

“You’re leaving,” the man states blankly. The two of them had always had an odd relationship - not quite friends, but not quite enemies, either.

“I am,” Baekhyun responds, lowering his guitar into his case. “It’s been a pleasure staying here but I must move on.”

“Your stories,” Kyungsoo says. “Are they true?”

Baekhyun hesitates, his hands frozen on the zipper of his case. “Whether they are true or not, their aim is to make the people happy and hopeful.”

“So,” Kyungsoo raises a brow, “lies, then.”

“I tell stories with happy endings,” Baekhyun says, defense naturally kicking in at Kyungsoo’s accusatory tone. “That’s all the kids need to hear, anyway.”

Kyungsoo looks away, exhaling heavily. “Happy endings. Do they exist anymore?”

“Not in this world,” Baekhyun says, slinging his case onto his shoulder. He suddenly feels drained. “The stories I tell are of a different world, an alternate universe that can bring hope and happiness to children. That is why I must do what I do. ”

“Even if you must bend the truth?”

Baekhyun takes a long, hard look at Kyungsoo, his expression stony and nothing like the hearty, passionate man who sings to children.

“Especially when I must bend the truth,” he responds quietly. “Would you rather I tell them stories of death, of the bloodshed that occurred for years only to end in wasted bodies all across the land? Is that the story you prefer to hear? I’m here to give them hope.”

“False hope is never better than the truth. The tale about the deities and humanity rising up to defeat them - that was the biggest lie I’d ever heard. We as humans are struggling more than ever to rebuild. The deities are winning, and they are thriving knowing that.”

“Any hope is better than no hope at all,” Baekhyun says. “Why would you rather them live in a world they know to be desolate and empty, with no hope at all?”

“And what about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“Have you found your angel?”

Baekhyun falters, his brows furrowing and his eyes blanking.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“But you do,” Kyungsoo urges. “It doesn’t take a fool to see it in your face as you tell your most requested story - about the man who lost his angel. It is your most vague tale, your most mysterious. I sense that’s why it’s yearned for the most, because the people want to know more. But you can’t give them more, because - under the midnight moon - that hasn’t happened yet, has it? To the people, this tale is a story of hope, of reunion. To you, this tale is a lie.”

Baekhyun’s breath hitches, and words get caught in his throat. His heart thumps wildly in his chest and he wishes he had left this morning when he still could have. This is the last place on earth he wants to be now.

“You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?” Baekhyun murmurs, dropping his head.

Kyungsoo seems to see this, and glances away. His stare softens, something akin to guilt flooding his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says lowly. “I had no right to say any of that.”

“No, you didn’t,” Baekhyun agrees, “but you aren’t wrong.”

An icy silence falls between them, Baekhyun shuffling his feet and Kyungsoo looking awfully guilty.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving now,” Baekhyun says, the words coming out more spiteful than he means.

“I’m sorry, I am,” Kyungsoo tries to get in quickly. “I don’t know what came over me. Of course your stories can be about whatever you like.”

“I appreciate it,” Baekhyun says, but it sounds empty. He turns, giving one last nod of acknowledgement to Kyungsoo. “Farewell.”

And so he walks off, guitar slung over his shoulder and chin down. He can practically feel Kyungsoo’s stare on his back, but it’s only when Baekhyun reaches the outer perimeter of the village that the man decides to call out.

“Baekhyun.”

He stops in his path, waiting.

“I do hope you find him,” Kyungsoo says. “Your angel.”

Baekhyun turns once more to face him again, forcing a smile that he can only hope looks confident.

“Haven’t you heard the tale, Kyungsoo?” Baekhyun says, his arms spreading in an exaggerated bow. “Under the midnight moon, two souls shall meet again, because no one dares get in their way.”

Kyungsoo smirks, chuckling a bit. “Not even fate herself.”

“Not even fate herself,” Baekhyun echoes with a bitter smile. He gives Kyungsoo one last wave, before he’s on his merry way out of the village.

“Angel,” Baekhyun mutters to himself once he’s some distance away. “Perhaps it’s heaven where I’ll meet you again. Perhaps that’s better for us, anyway. I don’t want to bear witness to this land any longer. Fate - she isn’t keeping you, is she? You said yourself that even she couldn’t hold you back. I suppose it’s out of our control, though.”

 

 

The shadows hide those with darker secrets. Baekhyun knows it’s the bigger parts of these areas that tend to house the few people who worship the deities, view them as their gods and fear them as such. They are few, but passionate, and their word is getting around much more frequently in these recent weeks. Baekhyun fears for a world where the people who live in it worship the deities who destroyed it. This area was still in the drylands, so he knows these people may prefer Joohyun, the eldest sister. He has never met one of her cultists, but he does not wish to. Somehow, they are even more terrifying than the deities themselves.

Baekhyun eventually presses open the door to a bar of sorts, the lighting dim as he enters. There are only a few people dotted here and there at the small makeshift tables made from cardboard, crates, and various other scraps. They don’t appear to look fishy either, so he accepts this, and makes his way towards the bar.

“What’ll it be?” asks the barkeeper, small in stature, but invitation comforting.

“What do you have?”

The keeper laughs at this, shrugging. “Gin, beer, mostly… a bit of whiskey. Anything salvageable.”

“Beer is fine,” Baekhyun says, seating himself on the stack of crates meant to substitute for a stool. He drums his fingers on the surface as the barkeeper slides the drink across the table.

“Hey.”

The short greeting is nearly disregarded by Baekhyun until it’s repeated, more insistent this time. Baekhyun lifts his head once he realizes it's him the bartender is speaking to, and raises a brow in question.

“You’re, uh - you’re that fellow going around, aren’t you? With the songs and stories about the apocalypse and...you know, the deities and all that.”

Baekhyun, on instinct, almost says no, that he must be mistaken. He is a nobody and has always been, but he certainly doesn’t expect to be recognized this time around, and for something so trivial. He blinks in astonishment.

“I didn’t realize I was...relevant,” he says.

“I’d say more than just relevant. Famous, even. I get travelers coming through all the time in here retelling one of your stories. They travel far and wide with these people.”

Baekhyun huffs. “Have they made that much of an impact?”

“Oh yeah,” the bartender nods, like it’s more than obvious. “I’ve heard a lot from you, despite just meeting you now.” His laugh is loud, like it’s the funniest thing. “They help, you know. They’re more than just stories, I think. They’re...beacons of hope, almost.”

“Hope,” Baekhyun echoes quietly, almost bitterly, that word coming up again. “What is hope?”

“Hope?” the bartender says, placing the clean glass away on a shelf behind him and turning back to Baekhyun with a contemplative look. “I’ll tell you. Easy. Hope is the feeling I got when I heard the tale of a child reuniting with their parent after all the chaos. Hope is the story of the man who survived despite having lost a entire leg. Hope is the tale of the mortal losing his angel in the hellfire, and finding him again in the end.”

Baekhyun stiffens at the last, but tries his best to brush it off.

“Your stories are hope. My favorite is the kid reuniting with their parent,” the bartender says. “It helps, I’m telling you. More than anything, it helps the people cope. It helps me keep the shred of faith I have left that I’ll ever find my wife and son.”

And there it is. Baekhyun glances up, immediately feeling guilt and dread flood his gut. The bartender seems to notice immediately, and waves his hand as a nonchalant dismissal.

“Don’t worry about it,” the bartender says, but Baekhyun worries anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he responds. “I didn’t mean to belittle…”

“Belittle?” the other says. “You’ve done far more for me, and others, than you might ever think. I’m Jongdae, by the way.”

Baekhyun feels even worse now that the man is trying to make amends by offering his name and perhaps friendship, but he swallows down the nervous guilt. “Baekhyun,” he utters. “Your local apocalypse songbird.”

Jongdae lets out a bark of a laugh at that, wiping his hands down with the dish towel. “I like that. You’re a...a minstrel, of sorts. Like from the medieval ages.”

“I guess so,” Baekhyun says, finally allowing a chuckle. “I’m glad, by the way. That they help. The stories.”

“They really do. It’s tough to keep your head up these days, you know? Of course you know. That’s why you do this.”

It wasn’t, at first, Baekhyun thinks to himself. He had a guitar and some pent-up frustration and turned it into stories that tend to turn a blind eye to the darker side of things. Then again, no one needs that. They get enough of it just by living in this age. The bartender is right. Hope is a feeble thing, and Baekhyun wants to keep it alive.

“I hope you find them,” Baekhyun murmurs. “Or I hope they find you. Whichever way it happens, I hope it happens.”

“Thank you,” Jongdae says, smiling in gratitude. It’s quiet then, the air between them warm and cozy as Baekhyun finishes up his drink.

“Will you be needing a room?” Jongdae asks just as Baekhyun empties his cup.

“No, that’s fine,” he responds, sliding his empty glass across the table. “I should get going.”

“What’s the rush?”

The corner of Baekhyun’s lip quirks up. “Places to go, stories to tell.” He hesitates, and decides it wouldn’t hurt. “And people to find.”

Jongdae’s face falls, his eyes expanding in surprise. “Oh,” he utters softly, likely realizing that he and Baekhyun are one and the same. “I see. If you don’t mind me asking, who-?”

“My friend,” Baekhyun says, finding the courage for the first time to speak of his true mission. “His name is Minseok. Being a barkeeper who's heard many stories and come across many people, perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

The man’s expression darkens, and he glances away regretfully. That’s enough of an answer really, but he goes on anyway, twisting the knife in Baekhyun’s heart. “I have never heard of a Minseok, not around these parts. I’m sorry.”

Baekhyun presses his mouth into a thin line, and nods once, curtly. “I saw that coming. Thank you, anyway. And thank you for the drink. I’ll be on my way.”

“I hope you find him too,” Jongdae says before Baekhyun can leave. “Never give up, Baekhyun.”

“I won’t,” Baekhyun responds, managing a small, weak smile, half-turned away. “Not when it comes to him.”

Jongdae nods, a farewell of sorts, and Baekhyun steps out of the building into the cool of the night, the brick beneath his feet comforting.

He is so used to dirt, and his shoes are as well, tattered and covered in a sheen layer of brown dust. There’s an alleyway nearby, where he jogs over to quickly so as to avoid standing in anyone’s way. He taps his shoes on the brick once, and twice, an attempt to shake the dirt off.

There’s a grip on his shoulder then - light, but it frightens him still. He leaps away, turning around to meet the stranger.

A woman stands there in the alleyway with him, looking at him from under a dark hood.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Baekhyun blinks, and sees that the shadow of the hood hides her kind, soft eyes.

“It’s alright,” he responds, taken aback by how soft spoken she is. “Can I help you?”

“I overheard you,” she says. “In the bar. Talking to the barkeeper.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun says, a strange pang of worry shooting through him. How loud had they been speaking?

“Your friend, Minseok,” she says, and Baekhyun perks up. Perhaps she knows where he is.

“Yes?” he asks, a little too eagerly.

“I can bring him to you.”

The phrasing is odd. Baekhyun had expected a ’I know where he is’ of some sorts, but the thought of having Minseok at his side once again defeats that hesitation.

“Can you?” Baekhyun asks. “You know where he is?”

“I can bring him to you,” the woman repeats. “Or I can offer you another choice.”

A chill runs up Baekhyun’s spine, causing him to shudder. There’s a flash of red under the dark hood, somewhere where the woman’s eyes are, and Baekhyun blinks to make sure he isn’t imagining things. He realizes then that it’s darker outside than it had originally been before he walked into the bar. The brick street is void of people.

“What do you mean?” he asks, that hesitation flooding his gut once more. The woman’s tone had noticeably altered into something darker.

“I can bring your friend to you,” she says, “or I can reunite the barkeeper with his precious family. The choice is yours.”

Baekhyun blinks in confusion. “Choice?”

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, darling,” the woman says now, a sudden sneer to her voice. Any trace of kindness is gone, and Baekhyun’s heart thumps wildly at this trap he’s seemed to have set himself into. “After all, I’m the star of your famous stories.”

Her tone lifts tantalizingly, mockingly, and has Baekhyun widening his eyes, words caught in his throat. That chill up his spine from before, that flash of red in the woman’s eyes - he wasn’t imagining anything.

“You’re a deity,” he utters, taking a step back on instinct. An icy shot of fear strikes through his heart. It suddenly hits him how very alone in this dark alley they are.

She lifts her head just enough so that the light from the moon casts onto her satisfied leer. Baekhyun tells himself to escape while he can, but he cannot lie; the simple possibility of what she may be offering has him rooted to the ground. It’s too much to resist. Baekhyun cannot be afraid of anything anymore, he cannot afford to be.

The deity lifts her chin and drops her hood, revealing bloodred eyes and long, silver hair. Her face is youthful and beautiful, a kind stranger to anyone who passes by, but Baekhyun knows better.

“Joohyun,” he mutters. “The deity of the drylands.”

“So you weren’t playing fool, after all,” Joohyun hums, thin lips pulling into a sneer. “We’re already well acquainted with each other I believe, so let’s move on, shall we?”

Baekhyun swallows nervously, the hard thumping of his chest distracting. He is sure she can hear it, and he is sure she is relishing in the fear she strikes within him. It's cold, the fear, running through his veins and turning his blood blue.

He forces words out of his dry mouth, skin numb. “Why even give me a choice at all? Why even ask?”

“Consider it a warm-up, darling. You should know more than anyone else that I adore games. You enjoy your stories about my sisters and I so much, here’s another one for you.” She’s spiteful, Baekhyun can tell. Bitter, about the tales Baekhyun’s spread of them. “Shouldn’t you be grateful for this first hand experience? Imagine the hope you’ll share upon retelling this story, about how you managed to find your sweet angel again! That is, if you choose him.”

It should be easy; he’s dedicated the rest of his life to looking for Minseok, so his first instinct is of course to choose for him over the happiness of a stranger he met merely ten minutes ago.

But the barkeeper - his friendly smile wavers in the back of his mind, preaching tales about hope and faith. Baekhyun had been responsible for that hope, and what is hope if it never falls through to the real thing? That faith in his eyes - that warmth, that pure trust. He had been so sure he would ever find his family again, simply because the tales Baekhyun share give him that hope. Baekhyun shrinks in on himself once he remembers that his stories are lies, for the most part. They are tragedies woven into fairy tales, tales of loss and death fashioned into tales of reunion and joy.

He feels, strangely, like he owes it to the barkeeper.

Minseok comes back to mind again. How relieved he would be to see his face again, to see his smile, to hear his laugh and feel the warmth emanate off of him.

Baekhyun is afraid he will have to wait a little while longer.

“Jongdae,” he decides, the word coming out of his mouth before he can even realize. “I want you to bring his family back to him.”

Joohyun hums in satisfaction upon having finally received an answer, and smirks once more. “A samaritan, as I suspected.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, more a scared croak than anything. 

“I told you, darling. I’m only giving you another story. If we are such monsters, we’ll do what you say we do and terrorize.”

Her voice is dark and demanding, smooth with a rough edge. With every word, Baekhyun has the urge to step back, further away, but he will not give her that satisfaction. 

“You’ve taken millions of lives and brought on the end of the world for the sake of a silly competition between you and your sisters," Baekhyun says. You are monsters.”

Joohyun huffs suddenly. Slowly, her smile fades and drops into a deep scowl. “Think very carefully about the words you say to me, Byun Baekhyun. We were doing you all a favor. Is it my sisters and I that are the monsters when the human race exists? Selfish, manipulative, playing the heroes when deep down they only want the glory the title provides. Everything you people do is for the sake of yourselves; you don’t give a damn about the others. It’s the mortals who kill out of cold blood, who steal from stranger’s pockets, who pollute and taint this once beautiful land.”

She turns to face away from him, lifting her hood back on to cover her head as she throws him one last scowl. “It’s a shame we didn’t manage to get all of you.”

She’s gone when Baekhyun lifts his head, her last several words resounding in his head. There is no evidence of her having ever been there, standing before him. The alleyway is empty still, but in the distance, he can hear people again, conversing amongst themselves. It was if they had been in their own, empty, dark and cold world.

It was over, wasn’t it? Why then, did he feel a deep, gut-curling dread in the pit of his chest? Her words of monsters and mortals - she was justifying her and her sisters’ actions and Baekhyun will not fall for it.

He shoves his trembling hands into his pockets and leaves the dark alleyway, only to turn back into the bar, his heart a thundering mess.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Baekhyun calls out as he re-enters. “I’ll take a room.”

 

 

In the morning, a woman and a small child - no older than five years old - enter the bar on the account that they were led there by a kind stranger.

Baekhyun wakes to the commotion of boisterous laughter and cheers. He shuffles out of his room and peers down the landing to see a small group of people crowded around the bar, Jongdae sitting on the surface with his arms around two figures. His gaze happens upwards, and he meets Baekhyun’s eyes amidst the celebration. He grins, wide.

“Baekhyun!” he calls. “Come down for a free drink! I have some people you’ll want to meet.”

Baekhyun, still shaken from last night’s events, throws him a thumbs up and a smile that is perhaps a little too strained. He dresses himself in his room, scavenging whatever clean clothes he has left in his bag. His hair is a bird’s nest, but he decides he doesn’t care and makes his way down to the main bar.

“It’s amazing, truly. Just yesterday-” Jongdae pauses mid sentence once he catches sight of Baekhyun, “-Baekhyun! Come over here. Come meet my wife and daughter.”

Something dark twists in Baekhyun’s chest, a conflicted storm raging within him, but the smile on his face says otherwise as he makes his way through the crowd.

“It’s a miracle,” Jongdae says, grinning. “Walked into my bar this morning, as if fate had brought them here. Isn’t this marvelous?”

“It certainly is a miracle,” Baekhyun says, but his voice lacks the usual luster. Jongdae doesn’t seem to notice, what with everyone else around him celebrating and sloshing their cups of alcohol.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Jongdae agrees, turning to smile fondly at his family. The woman is in tears of delight and the child is on her lap, smiling widely. “Shall I get you a drink?”

“It’s nine in the morning,” Baekhyun notes, “and I should really be on my way-”

“Nonsense! Never too early to celebrate!”

Jongdae pushes himself off of the bar and maneuvers himself and Baekhyun away from the crowd, heading towards the back of the bar. Once they are some distance away from the noise and cheers and sloshing of beers, Jongdae speaks to Baekhyun, his voice lowered with a glow of appreciation.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Baekhyun asks.

“I don’t know. I just - I feel like you did this. I mean, the morning of the night you - the source of all the faith I have left in the world - arrive here, I find my family again. It can’t be a coincidence. There must be some sort of destiny playing here.”

“I assure you it’s all just coincidence,” Baekhyun says, a heavy, invisible weight suddenly pressing against his shoulders. “But I’m happy for you. I am. I’m very glad they came to you again.”

“It says something about hope, doesn’t it?” Jongdae says, grinning. “It isn’t worthless at all. Not as feeble as some people would say. It means something, to keep your faith.”

Jongdae’s hope is built on a foundation of lies, and now today, was only proven by a choice Baekhyun made on a moral whim. Destiny and faith have nothing to do with it; only a little deity by the name of Joohyun, and the game she so wants to play.

She had said it was a warm-up. What did that mean, and why did Baekhyun feel so uneasy?

“I hope you never lose this faith,” Baekhyun says instead. “I’m beyond happy you found your family again, but now I...I must go on.”

“To enact miracles elsewhere?” Jongdae says with a grin. “I hope to see you again.”

Baekhyun can only nod, his smile tight. He offers a final wave to the group of people and the woman and child standing nearby, their expressions lit up by the reunion. Baekhyun wonders, briefly, what it might have been like had he chosen Minseok instead. To have Minseok standing there instead. Would Jongdae feel as bitter as he feels now?

He doesn’t think on it too long, knowing full well that it will drive him insane if he does. Instead, he pushes open the door to leave for the second time, shoes hitting the brick once again.

This time, he does not stop in a dark alleyway to kick the dust off his shoes; only passes it by with not so much as a glance.

 

 

There aren’t many places of civilization where he’s headed, Baekhyun realizes - wherever he’s headed.

He comes across a few small buildings here and there with the occasional survivor, but he walks pass them briskly when he notices their stiff posture and unwelcoming eyes. There are no villages, no small towns with brick roads - just dry, parse land.

It’s interesting to him then, when he sees a land of water for the first time in years.

It’s a lake, he thinks. He can’t have hit the ocean, not yet.

There’s an arching bridge on one end, so he heads towards that. The land beyond the lake appears grimy and almost swampy. There’s moss on the other end of the bridge; the greenery would make the villagers of the drylands drop their jaws in amazement.

The ground is even a bit soggy as he steps, the dirt wet and clinging to his shoes.

He passes on the small villages he comes across, refusing sleep and food from those kind enough to offer. He takes what he can, but never spends more than twenty minutes in a single place. He has only one sole mission now - finding Minseok; seeing Kim Jongdae with his family only motivated him even further into completing it.

Soon enough, he even begins to come across buildings again. Small homes from before the end of the world, or convenience stores with moss and greenery growing all along the sides. The lands are still flooded, and Baekhyun is not used to having to deal with his shoes filled with water.

He is in a small town of sorts, empty and noiseless aside from the sloshing his legs make through the water. The mold is abundant, growing on the sides of old buildings and abandoned cars. It’s creepy, but Baekhyun has no time to turn back nor to dwell on how this seems too much like the beginning of a horror film.

There is a suspicious-looking tall building in front of him at the end of the road. It’s a mall, he realizes.

The groggy water reaches up to his knees here. He is left to trudge through this abandoned mall carefully, shrugging his guitar case and knapsack higher up on his shoulders so that it does not brush against the water. There’s moss and unspecified plants growing on the railings, on the escalators, wrapped around poles and tangling together amongst the dirt stained flood. The lower section of his pants are drenched, yet he has no choice but to drag himself on in the building. He can only hope no one is hiding out in here, waiting for an unfortunate victim to pass by.

The efforts of wading in the thickened water begin to hit him hard, and he wants to move to sit down somewhere above the flood, but suddenly, a piercing, loud, and bright voice strikes through the calm silence.

“My, you are shorter than I imagined!”

Baekhyun startles at the sudden voice - clearly meant to surprise. He turns, eyes wide as he searches for the source of the voice, but there is no one there, no presence at all. Just the empty mall and floods and moss. He circles, scanning the perimeter for a presence of some sort, but can spot no being. He does not like this, does not like the feeling of a presence, but not being able to see them.

Until, he turns back the way he was facing, and is met with a bright smile on a face merely inches from his own.

He leaps back in alarm, hand darting towards his guitar.

“Planning to use that as a weapon?” the woman says. Her hair is mesmerizing, a sort of silky gold that is only ever mentioned in fairytales. “It’s not a very good one.”

Baekhyun gulps. That unease in his gut that he’s been feeling ever since he met Joohyun unravels into something terrifying, pulling at his insides.

“You’re Sooyoung,” he murmurs. “The second deity.” The water sloshes around him as he steps backwards, away from her. He realizes only then that she is laying across the air as if something holds her up, belly facing the ground and tattered dress fluttering beneath her. Her chin is in her palm, and she frowns. Baekhyun is alarmed when her entire figure begins to rise in the air, dress ribbons dancing behind her as she settles herself on the balcony of the second landing.

“Is that what they call me? It doesn’t make me sound very important. “ She crosses her legs, resting her chin in her palm. “Joohyun must be the first, since she’s the eldest. It’s always been that way, hm? She’s the eldest, our dear Yerim’s the youngest, and what does that leave me? The second deity.” She pouts exaggeratedly into her palm. “But look all around us! I did this after all! My powers and beauty shall not be ignored.”

“Why are you here?” Baekhyun asks.

“Oh, yes! I’m here to inform you of a little mishap, sweetheart. Something oh-so-unfortunate has occurred.”

Baekhyun grits his teeth at the careless tone she uses, knowing full well this will impact him. The fear he’s felt morphs into an aggravation.

“What is it?”

“You remember Kim Jongdae, don’t you?” she asks, swinging her feet in the air and blinking at Baekhyun innocently. “The poor lad has fallen terribly ill. So unfortunate. Days away from death, really.”

“Ill?” Baekhyun repeats, in horror. His fists clench, brows furrowing as he glares up at the deity. “It isn’t by mere coincidence, is it?”

“Of course not, sweetheart, it wouldn’t have been fun that way! Joohyun set it upon him, of course. We’ve got to spice up the game a little, after all.”

A game. Everything is a game to them; it has always been.

“How unfortunate it must be to die after just having found your family,” Sooyoung says, pouting in mockery. “It really is sad.”

“You’re sick.”

Sooyoung frowns at his words, pout deepening before it eventually twists back into a pleased smile. “Why, thank you.”

“And you’re going to give me a choice, I presume.”

“You’re getting the hang of the game!” Sooyoung exclaims, clapping her hands in glee. “See, you can choose to have Minseok at your side once again, or save Kim Jongdae’s life.”

Baekhyun huffs. He’d expected that. “Well, if this concerns someone’s life, then I’ll easily choose the latter.”

“Terribly sorry, must apologize - I’ve forgotten to tell you the best part! If you choose for Jongdae to live-,” she lowers her voice, like she’s telling him a secret, “-then Minseok will be struck with that illness instead. But! If you find him in time before his death, we might just spare him.”

“Can I just ask - why me? Why is it me you’re playing with?”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you understand?” she says, her sultry voice smooth and almost tricking Baekhyun into thinking she means to help him. “My sisters and I are very interested in you. It’s your stories! Your songs, your words - the way you’ve spoken of us, like we’re monsters!”

“That’s exactly what you are,” Baekhyun says. “You did this. Look what you’re doing to me.”

She merely hums. “And I’m very proud of my handiwork, thank you. Don’t be too upset, sweetheart. You should be honored that we want to play with you! It’s not every day we waste our precious time on a mortal. Now what’ll it be, hm? Your sweet angel, or the life of a man you knew for half a day?”

“You say that, even if I choose to save Jongdae and Minseok gets ill instead, that he will be rid of the illness if I find him in time?”

Sooyoung nods, smiling in content. “Of course, sweetheart! The game must go on, after all. Besides, it’ll be hilarious watching you roam all over these lands in search of him, but this time, with a countdown on his life!”

“How do I know this isn’t a lie?” Baekhyun asks. “How do I know you three don’t already have something up your sleeves?”

“Well, you don’t,” Sooyoung says, shrugging carelessly. “But do you really have the time to be considering this? The clock is ticking, my dear.”

“A life can still be spared this way,” Baekhyun says under his breath. “Save Jongdae.”

Sooyoung’s smile widens, and she tilts her head, blinking innocently. “Interesting. Do you have enough faith in yourself to find your sweet angel before he dies, then? Or do you simply not care anymore?”

“Just do it,” Baekhyun mutters through gritted teeth. “I’ll find Minseok before he… before he dies.”

Sooyoung laughs openly, tossing her head back. “Oh, how I adore you. You make this so much fun. We’ll anticipate it, surely.”

“How much time do I have?”

“To save your angel? Well, that’s solely for me to know, love.”

“Tell me, at least. He could be anywhere.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before making your decision, hm?” She waves her fingers at Baekhyun and shoots him one last devious smile. “See you around, sweetheart. You’ve saved a life but let’s see if you can do the same for that angel of yours. So sweet, by the way, referring to him as an angel in your story. Very romantic, despite the fact that you practically bargained his life for a stranger’s just now. Wouldn’t be the first time you let him down, would it? Anyway, I’m rooting for you.”

His heart stills at her words, at letting him down. He’s an idiot; it would have been difficult to know Kim Jongdae would be facing death any time soon, but he’d gotten to reunite with his family at the very least. Baekhyun hardly knew the man and here he was trading Minseok’s life for his.

He has a chance to save Minseok at the very least, wherein he wouldn’t have been offered the same deal with Jongdae, who would have died immediately had Baekhyun chosen Minseok. All he needs to do is find him in the right amount of time.

But if he doesn’t?

He lifts his head to face the deity again, but she has disappeared just as Joohyun had that first haunting night. And just like that first night, there’s a gut-curling dread forming in the pit of his chest.

 

 

He’s desperate.

He asks anyone and everyone he comes across - unwelcoming eyes or not - if they’ve seen Kim Minseok or even heard of him. It seems, however, as if he’s disappeared off the face of the planet, because no one - no one has heard of Kim Minseok.

It isn’t comfortable, the little twist of his heart every time someone says no, they haven’t seen them, ask the village nearby. His heart race increases with every passing second, and it destroys him knowing that the time he takes to ask these people is time wasted in finding Minseok before the illness takes him.

By the time he reaches the edge of the floodlands, he is hunched over, feet dragging pathetically against the wet soil. In the horizon, he sees it - the singed landscape of the torchlands, black and crisp against the setting sun. He wants to turn back, wants to give up and fall onto the earth and sleep forever.

But he can’t. He owes it to Minseok to find him and save him. This is all his fault.

Baekhyun knows, however, that contrary to the floodlands and drylands, the torchlands do not harbor many life forms. With these lands being much warmer than the rest - to the point where some areas will occasionally burst into flames once more - the dangers are too much to risk.

It is also said that the torchlands are where the deities’ religious cults are spread the most.

Baekhyun has no choice; he’s searched far and wide in both the drylands and the floodlands. His only hope of finding Minseok lies beyond. He can only hope the man is still alive, and not suffering as much as Baekhyun’s unfortunate imagination believes.

So he straightens himself upright, heaves in a deep breath, picks up his feet, and marches bravely into the torchlands, barren and scorched.

 

 

The ground beneath him is singed, crumbled blades of grass falling apart into ash upon his touch. To think that a goddess can be powerful enough to do this to his homeland is terrifying.

The sun is hard on him, and the silence overbearing. There is no sign of life in all directions, just the leftovers of charred bark and the smoke that dances from its tips. Baekhyun shields the sun with his arm, narrowing his eyes to get a good look in the distance, but all he can see is more torchlands - more of nothing.

He’s losing his breath as well, and his feet are dragging again. The motivation he’d felt upon entering the torchlands faded quickly, after just a few hours.

It’s hopeless, he knows. His heart is thundering in his chest from the extraneous walking in this much-too-warm land, and his very mind is set to go insane soon.

At last, he falls to his knees and pulls his canteen out of his sack, only to find that it is empty. There is merely one drop of water left that plops onto his tongue, and he savors it.

The desperation begins clawing at his chest, telling him to get up and move on, telling him that he hasn’t got time to waste to sit there. He feels tears welling up, because the emotions inside of him begin conflicting. He wants to rest, but he wants to find Minseok. He wants to turn back and save himself, but he cannot do that. Not again.

With that final thought, the tears begin to flow relentlessly, and he curls in on himself. There is nothing but him, the silence, and the quiet cries that break it. He will die here, and he accepts this. There is no way Kim Minseok is alive, so perhaps Baekhyun will be able to join him then.

Eventually, his cries fade and his eyes begin to close. He feels himself succumbing to sleep, and hopes, maybe, that he will see Minseok in his dreams.

 

 

He’s laying on something soft. Not anything like the scorched land he’d been traveling on. It feels - for the longest time - like a bed and blankets.

He blinks his eyes open and is met with the top of a hut, wooden and not very well constructed judging from the gaps where he can see into the sky. There is a brief moment where he thinks he must be back at the village he left so long ago with little Sehun and happy Chanyeol and the small children. Then he remembers that’s impossible, and darts up a little too quickly in panic.

“You are awake.”

Baekhyun jumps at the elderly voice, looking to see a woman of old age standing in the hut with him.

“Who are you?”

“You may call me Soonja. I’m the head around here.”

“And where would that be?”

“You don’t know, dear?”

Baekhyun blinks at her in confusion, before looking around. He seems to be in a hut, or tent, or sorts. There are various embellishments on the surfaces of the walls, strange markings that are vaguely familiar. Something about it all strikes him as strange or rather…unique, and not a good kind.

To his horror, on the wall behind him and the bed he lays on, are large red markings drawn on the clay. The marks are drawn on with little care, but Baekhyun can still make out the three very clear forms of the drawing.

“You’re deity worshippers,” Baekhyun gasps, heart stilling. “Their followers. Their cult.”

Soonja hisses through her teeth. “Very ugly word, right there. We much prefer worshippers.”

This does not calm Baekhyun’s nerves. He’d rather have died out in the torchlands, alone.

“Now I know what you are thinking, Byun Baekhyun,” says Soonja. Patiently. “We are not evil, nor do we wish to see the world go down in flames. We are saving our world and its people by dedicating our lives to the worship of our great goddesses. For they are, great. That much cannot be denied. They hold fantastic power and we are only here to ensure that the peace be kept between us and them, for now as we rebuild.”

“And they like it,” Baekhyun says, a question in his words.

“Who wouldn’t love worship, dear? They are goddesses and we are mere mortals. We have nothing on them, and they know this.”

“My name,” Baekhyun blinks, once he realizes Soonja referred to him as Baekhyun. “You know it?”

“There is not a soul left in this world who doesn’t know your name, dear. Your tales travel far and wide.”

“So I’ve heard,” he mutters. His name is known amongst nearly everyone, and yet, Kim Minseok’s is a stranger.

He glances out into the open door, and sees more of the same damned torchlands. “You found me,” he concludes.

“And brought you here,” Soonja explains.

“But why?”

Soonja just stares at him patiently, hands folded neatly in her lap. “Why not? Do you think I would have let you die out there? I know personally how the conditions in the torchlands can be. You are much safer here, with us.”

“There are more of you?”

“Of course. You are in my home, for now. You can stay for as long as you like.”

It’s only then that Baekhyun remembers how he’d gotten here in the first place. He twists the edge of the blanket in his hands, unsure whether or not he should trust these person just because she says he can. Then again, he figures he has no choice.

“Would you by chance know a Kim Minseok?”

She narrows her eyes at him, curious, before shaking her head. “I’m afraid the name is unfamiliar to me.”

All Baekhyun can do now is huff out an ironic chuckle; he is too used to these answers. “Figured.”

Soonja smiles then, friendly and amicable. “Let’s talk a walk, if you’re up for it, shall we?”

 

 

Baekhyun can only imagine how difficult it must be to live in the torchlands, a land scarce of food and water. He realizes then that it’s the sacrifice they must make for their goddesses. The torchlands are known to be the land closest to the deities, the last land struck by the last of the sisters.

There are huts placed in two parallel lines, each across from another. Soonja leads Baekhyun through the village, introducing him to various people of all sorts of personalities. If Soonja hadn’t told him, Baekhyun would have never figured they were all followers of the deities, people who worshipped them. They seemed normal enough; then again, the very idea of their followers’ being insane and evil was conjured from Baekhyun himself, who had everything to fear.

“Lore of the three deities date back to from far before the end of the world,” Soonja explains as they walk down the village. “They have always been present, just myths that no one cared for until they decided to make themselves known. In very ostentatious and horrific ways.”

“Horrific,” Baekhyun repeats. “Can you say that?”

Soonja chuckles. “Of course. The deities themselves appreciate it.”

“So the reason they’ve stopped striking the earth at all is because of you?” Baekhyun asks. “Because of the worshippers? You said before that you keep the peace between us and them.”

“That is right, Baekhyun,” Soonja says. “To keep the peace, we as mortals must acknowledge that that is all we are, and that we are much lesser than our great goddesses. For they are of such great power and beauty.”

“I see,” Baekhyun says. Something about her tone is slightly alarming, Baekhyun realizes. He should leave.

“Thank you for saving me,” he says. “I have to move on, though. I’m on a very tight schedule, see, I’m looking for someone…”

“Ah, yes. Kim Minseok?” Soonja asks.

Baekhyun nods, dropping his head. “He could be in danger because of me.”

“I see,” Soonja says, her expression unchanging and completely unreadable. “But I’m afraid you can’t leave yet, Baekhyun.”

He blinks in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Soonja is patient with him. “She’s very busy, she says.... She might take a moment.”

Something takes a hot grip on Baekhyun’s heart. “Who is she?”

Soonja’s brows begin to furrow, and her voice rises, suddenly. “See… we couldn’t have you out there telling lies and exaggerations about our deities, telling tales of how us meak mortals can overpower our goddesses’ strengths. The idea itself is absurd and an insult to our goddesses! To say that we have the hearts and minds to overcome our deities is as if to say we possess greater power than them! And we could never dream of a world in which we overpower our great goddesses!”

“You summoned her,” Baekhyun says, stepping back in realization. “Called her here.”

“Our deities are the ultimate force, and you will taint that no longer,” she says. “It’s for the good of our land, Baekhyun. What’s left of it, at least.”

“You’re fools,” Baekhyun says, calling out to the group of people that begin to circle around them. “They don’t care about you. They’re basking in your worship now, but they’ll tire of you eventually and destroy you too. It’s just a matter of time.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Soonja’s gaze drifts upwards, focusing in on something over Baekhyun’s head. A smile creeps on her lips, slowly, indulgently.

“Our dear Yerim has arrived, my loves.”

 

 

 

She’s young. Younger than the rest. Young like Luhan from the small town he left so long ago, just young enough to have Baekhyun in disbelief that she is one of the great deities to have brought on the end of the world.

Her hair is bloodred, falling past her shoulders to her waist. There’s a content, pleased smile on her face, so childlike and so wrong.

“Leave us be,” the deity commands of her followers. They begin to scatter after shooting wary glances to Baekhyun. Soonja herself looks dubious before she too turns her back on them to re-enter her hut.

“Yerim,” Baekhyun gasps when she turns to look at him.

“That’s me!” she says, tittering afterwards, almost giggling. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, Baekhyun. My sisters would brag and brag about how pretty and charismatic you were, I just had to find you as soon as possible. You weren’t hiding from me, were you?”

He swallows nervously, hands trembling and heart thundering. “Stop throwing the fate of a man I hardly know in my hands.”

“Oh, don’t worry. This one has nothing to do with Kim Jongdae. In fact, him and his beautiful little family are thriving thanks to you. See, this time, it’s all about you. It’s you I want to play with!”

“What do you want?”

Yerim frowns. “You don’t seem very enthusiastic.”

“Forgive me if I lack the eagerness to play you and your sisters’ twisted games.”

“There’s no need to be so mean, Baekhyunnie.”

Baekhyun shuts his eyes, willing himself to find the patience. He should have known. “I want this over with so tell me what you want, already.”

“My sister struck an illness upon your angel some months ago and will spare him on the account that you find him before his death. I’m here to tell you-” she pauses to snicker, a little giggle, “-that he isn’t far off.”

“And what is it you’ll have me choose between now then? My life for his? If so, this will easily be the quickest answer I’ll give you.”

“Oh no, not your life.” She laughs, like that’s outrageous. Like she hasn’t taken millions of lives already. “I don’t want your life, Baekhyunnie. I want your secrets.”

“My secrets?”

She hums, nodding. “Actually, your deepest, most darkest secret. You know the one!”

Baekhyun blinks in confusion, because surely by now, all his secrets have been revealed-

Except, of course, the one he’s managed to forget.

The one he’s buried deep under 10 year old memories, the one he’s blocked out entirely. The one that will haunt him for as long as he lives, remembered or not.

The blood in his veins turn cold.

“Anything,” Baekhyun mutters. “Anything but that, I beg of you.”

Yerim ignores him, humming and smiling patiently. “Why don’t you tell me how your story ends, Baekhyun? After all, it doesn’t simply end with the man and his angel reuniting, does it? There’s something more.”

His mouth dries, an uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. “Take my life, please; anything but that.”

“It’s never been your life we desired, Baekhyunnie. We’re rather bored of taking those. There’s not much left to do with the souls. What I want is for you to tell me your story! The whole story, the entire truth. That shouldn’t be so hard, right?”

“Please,” Baekhyun begs. He has no choice. He drops to his knees from the pure exhaustion, catching himself with his hands. Being in the mere presence of a deity is enough to drain him entirely. Soonja was right. They are far too powerful for any mortal.

Yerim seems to appreciate the sight of him begging on his knees, eyes welling up. Her smile brightens, her head tilting innocently. “Aren’t you glad for this? Think of the stories you can tell! Think of the hope you’ll share! That’s all you loathsome mortals have left, isn’t it? You love to share your stories, well, I’m only here to listen to another.”

Baekhyun can’t find it in himself to speak this time, the memories rushing back far too fast. He recalls the heat, the way the orange and red flames licked at the air around them and swallowed up his home. He remembers the look on Minseok’s face-

“You’re running out of tiiiiime!” Yerim exclaims suddenly, her figure rising higher in the air as she stares down at Baekhyun, pathetic and shriveling on the ground. “If you want your angel alive and returned to you, you’ll say it for me.“

He feels as if the smoke from then has crowded the space in his lungs again, and hacks, once, then twice.

“Please, don’t…” Baekhyun whispers. “It’s been so long, I’d almost…”

“Forgotten?” Yerim says, quirking her head again. “Well, I’m only here to remind you! Now do what you do best and tell me a bedtime story, silly.”

His eyes fall shut, head dropping until his chin meets his chest. Below, his tears fall onto the singed ground one by one, his fists clenched against the surface.

He does not have a choice. He cannot leave Minseok to die. Not again.

Yerim lowers herself once again to seat herself on the ground besides Baekhyun’s hunched figure. He stills at her presence. “Oh, please tell me the story, Baekhyunnie. Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

With a trembling heart, Baekhyun opens his mouth. His words come out strangled, choked back with tears.

He takes a deep breath, and begins to speak just as time stills all around him.

“When the man reunited with his angel, he turned to him with tears in his eyes.” His fingers shake, so he wraps them into a fist that he presses against his chest. He swallows, and goes on, clenching his eyes shut. “ _‘Once upon a time’_ he said, _‘as the world burned, there was a man and his sweet angel in the eye of the flames. The man, someone who was often fueled by selfish instinct, saw no chance of survival. For both of them, anyway. For one...perhaps._

“ _‘So he abandoned him. In a time of famine, flood, and fire, he abandoned his angel to save himself. The angel - up to this point - had never known it was on purpose and had simply thought they were separated by the flames roaring around them. But the man would have to live with this decision for the rest of his life._

“The man confessed to his angel that...that it was because of him that they separated. His own survival had meant everything to him… so much so that he had forgotten for a painstaking moment of his love for the angel. He saved himself all those years ago and left the angel alone in a burning building, back turned and running for his life. He saved himself, and lost his angel in the process.”

The tears run relentlessly down Baekhyun’s face, his words blurred through his cries. His knees ache from the ground, but his heart is what has him biting his lip and bearing through the pain.

“It was only afterwards when he decided to look for his angel, to spend the rest of his life looking for him, if only to apologize. He may never earn his forgiveness, but in the end, he knows he does not deserve it. He vowed that if he ever did find him… he would tell him the truth. And so, under the midnight moon, the man’s darkest secret was revealed, his heart poured, tears shed, and he waited for his angel to say something, anything. So when he looked up through red eyes, all he saw was the silver moon, and nothing else. The angel was not there; had he ever been? Perhaps it was just the man’s broken guilt forcing him to see things, forcing him to admit to himself what he’s tried for so long to ignore. The man was known as a good man to all, but himself. To himself, he would always be a dirty liar and a fake, a man trying to do good to nullify the wrong he’s done, but never being able to amount to what he had done to his once best friend.

“And so, he was alone. As he always will be. His angel, elsewhere, still lost, somewhere alive - but there was also a chance he would not be, thanks to him. The man had to see for himself, had to make himself feel better, had to find his angel and just hope he would see him again. It was the only reason left for him to live. ’We’re in this together,’ his angel had always said… If he could turn back time…” Baekhyun begins to lower his voice to a whisper, finding it hard to speak now, ‘...if I could turn back time… I would save him and leave my wretched soul to die.”

The last word comes out as a gasp, followed by a strangled sob. Baekhyun feels the heat of the flames from ten years ago on his cheeks, feels the panic he felt that night, sees the dark expression on Minseok’s face as he left him.

“So lovely…” Yerim says, soft-spoken and almost in awe. “You truly are a storyteller, Baekhyunnie. I think that one is my favorite yet.”

“Save him,” Baekhyun cries, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “I told you the whole story, now save him.”

“Shhh,” she hushes, bringing a palm down to gently caress the side of Baekhyun’s face. She looks proud. Baekhyun can only cry harder, heart quivering and lips trembling. The red in the deity’s eyes flash. “You’ve done well, Baekhyunnie.”

“Save him,” he mutters again.

Yerim only hums, pleased smile on her face. She nods slowly, agreeing. “That’s right, I made a promise I will be sure to fulfill. But you… you’ve got to live with this for the rest of your life, don’t you? It makes you just think who the real monster in your story is. Think of how cold his dead heart could have been, because you left him. Think of the bones that could have been left there in that burning building had he died, because you left him alone, selfish and uncaring. That was always the way it had been for you mortals, hm? Claim the hero title until your life is on the line. Even then, you are able to leave your best friend to die. And now, here you are, strutting about with that guitar of yours and playing the victim. You wanted to be a good man so bad that you let yourself forget who you really were. And what would that be, hm? Who are you?Who is the real monster of your stories, Baekhyunnie?”

Baekhyun can feel the bite of his nails cut into his palm, the puncture of his teeth as it breaks into the skin of his bottom lip.

She is right.

“Say it,” she whispers. “I know you know it. Please say it for me, and this is all over.”

Flames engulf his chest, and he bites the words out.

“I am. I’m the monster.”

There is an appreciative hum somewhere beyond Baekhyun’s sobs and the rushing memories. Yerim sighs in a dream-like tone.

“Where’s your faith now, songbird?” she taunts.

His chest is a heavy weight to bear, and his heart screams at the pressure.

“I think we’re done here,” Yerim says softly. “This has been fun, hasn’t it? But now, it’s time for bed, I think. Goodnight, darling.”

The edges of his sight fade, until all Baekhyun can see and feel is black, void, and numb.

 

 

The world shivers as he wakes up. There is cold sweat on his forehead, and a warm towel dabbing at it slowly, carefully.

Baekhyun blinks his eyes open, his chest feeling painfully empty. The ceiling reminds him of the days he’d spent in the villages of the drylands, of the small inn that Mrs. Kang ran with her sisters.

A shuddering chill runs through his body, and he feels someone tug a blanket higher up onto him, up to his chin.

He turns his head.

And there, in the flesh-

alive and well-

is Kim Minseok, gazing at him intently with a warm wet towel in his hand. His eyes are slanted like he remembers, smile wide and a little gummy,

And then he smiles, comfortingly.

Baekhyun does not deserve that smile.

“Hello,” Minseok says, his sugary voice breaking the silence between them.

He does not know to think, what to say, what to do.

After all this time looking for him, all Baekhyun wants to do now is run.

“I left you,” he says, sparing the greetings. It’s all he can think about now anyway, that night.

“I know,” Minseok says. His expression doesn’t change.

“You know?”

“I know. I saw you leave me behind. Didn’t even look back.”

So he had known, the entire time. For ten years, Minseok’s had to live with the fact that Baekhyun, his best friend, had abandoned him and saved himself. He saw him leave him, saw as he didn’t look back. Regret and disgust in himself forms around Baekhyun’s heart like a hard shell.

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun begins. There are many things he wants to say to Kim Minseok after so long, but all he can seem to spout now is his apologies. His heart is heavy.

“Let’s skip it, Baek. It’s been ten years.”

“No,” Baekhyun shakes his head, willing the tears away. “I can’t just skip it. I’m fucking sorry. I don’t deserve to be here. I don’t deserve to see you again, I don’t deserve to have you. You almost wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Baekhyun. I’m here now, and I’m alive, clearly, so if we can move on-”

“Move on?” Baekhyun chokes. “I will never move on knowing what I did to you, knowing it’s my fault we were separated, knowing we’ve been miles apart for a decade and that the only way I got you back was by playing stupid games with demons!”

“Demons?” Minseok asks.

Baekhyun cannot find it in him to tell him. This is one story he will never be able to retell without breaking down into tears. Funnily enough, the tears form anyway.

“Where are we?” Baekhyun says, quickly wiping at a tear so that Minseok will not see.

“Drylands,” Minseok says. “At a small village. The people here seem to know you. A little boy named Sehun, and the woman who runs this place - Mrs. Kang.”

“Where did you come from?”

“Floodlands,” Minseok says. “I was directed here by a kind stranger who said she knew you. That is, after I miraculously healed from a disease that nearly killed me.”

Baekhyun nearly chokes, but keeps his composure.

“Honestly, Baekhyun,” Minseok says. “I’d forgotten you left me behind, after some time. I got over it. I began to understand you. It’s instinct, isn’t it? To save yourself. I say we move on.”

Baekhyun bites his lip, holding back another apology. He doubts he can ever move on.

“Anyway,” Minseok continues, “I miss you.”

How, Baekhyun thinks, can Minseok simply brush it off like it is nothing? It was ten years ago, yes, but it feels as if it was yesterday. He could have died, and then how will Baekhyun be able to live like that, knowing what he had done?

Cold, dead heart.

Bones left in a burning building.

Baekhyun avoids looking at him, simply because the very visual of Kim Minseok is beginning to bring him back to that night ten years ago, back to the reds and heats of the flames. His heart aches at his very presence. The dark matter gnawing at his chest is too much to bear.

He swallows nervously, wiping away another tear with his thumb. “I’m very tired,” he says.

“I see,” Minseok says. “Should I come back later? Will you talk to me, then?”

Baekhyun doubts he can even look at Minseok now, not without the reminder of what kind of person he really is. It’s like Yerim said. A monster.

And it is like Joohyun said all that time ago. Humans are based on a selfish foundation; every seemingless selfless act they do is all for the image, for the title, for the glory. Baekhyun is no better.

But he nods anyway, hesitantly, forcing a smile for show.

Minseok leaves, clear hesitation in his stance when he looks back at Baekhyun. The room is empty once again. Cold. Baekhyun pulls the blanket up and over his head as he buries himself into the bed.

He should be happy. He won, after all. He thinks he did, at least. Did he win? It does not feel like it. He has Minseok back, and that is all he ever wanted, but there is no way to explain the gut curling feeling in his chest, the guilt and dark emotion spreading through him.

There’s a black hole in the pit of his chest, swallowing up his whole heart, and he knows it all will eventually swallow him up too.

 

 

**one year later.**

The village has relocated to the floodlands.

It’s not very flooded where they have moved, but there are trees, and a lake, and the ground is a bit soggier than they are used to, but it very much beats the drylands, where food was scarce and rain was little.

Baekhyun trudges through the woods carefully, bucket in hand. The river is just half a mile away from their village, and he volunteered to fetch some today for Ms.Kang’s daily supply. Sehun had wanted to come; the child always seemed to have a natural instinct for when Baekhyun is about the step out of the village. He had missed him for all the time he was gone.

“Wait up, will you?” calls a voice.

Baekhyun turns, the humid air around him suffocating, to see Kim Minseok jogging up to him, another bucket in hand,

“You’re coming along?” Baekhyun asks.

“Mrs. Kang asked me too, if that’s alright,” Minseok responds. It should be alright, shouldn’t it?

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun says, smile thin-lipped.

It’s tight, the air around them as they step over twigs and clovers. It’s never been the same between them. Baekhyun feels remorse for being so distant this past year, but he cannot find it in himself to approach Minseok, and Minseok seems to understand this. The silence is suffocating, and awkward, but the twinge of pain in Baekhyun’s heart upon seeing Minseok every day is too much to do anything about it.

They reach the river, clean and smooth and slipping down rocks. Quietly, just how they’ve done just about everything this past year, they begin filling their buckets with water. Baekhyun thinks he can get through this, thinks he can endure this for just a moment longer before he can hide in his hut again.

“I talked to Ms. Kang for a bit, before I left,” Minseok says, suddenly. “I talked to her and her sisters. About you.”

Baekhyun blinks in surprise. “Oh?”

“They say you tried very hard to look for me, back then”

Baekhyun huffs out an ironic chuckle. ““You’re very hard to find. No one had ever heard of you.”

The corner of Minseok’s lips quirk up. “I didn't have very many friends or know very many people. A bit of a lone wolf in this age.”

“Outrageous,” Baekhyun says, suddenly smiling in return. “Kim Minseok, no friends? You were the main man of our band back in the day. The one that everyone knew would go solo one day.”

They share a laugh, but for Baekhyun, it becomes tinged with bitterness afterwards, and he finds himself frowning again after clearing his throat. He does not deserve this, he does not deserve to smile and laugh with Kim Minseok. He does not deserve his friendship.

“How are you holding up?” Minseok asks, clearly very keen on continuing this conversation.

“I’m well,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head of his previous thoughts. “Doing okay.”

“That’s great,” Minseok says, bland. “You know, you never really told me what happened to you. Before I found you.”

“I did tell you,” Baekhyun says. “We’ve all been through some tough stuff.”

“But you were numb for months. It took a while before you crawled out of the hut and saw sunlight for the first time. And...and you were even avoiding me. After we spent so much time apart, it hurt to see you pull away from me every time I tried to come near.”

_Because we were separated, and it’s my fault, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life._

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun says. “It’s better now, isn't it?”

“Well, you’ve stopped avoiding all contact with me so, yes, I’d say it’s better. But you still can’t seem to look me in the eyes when we speak. Did I do something I wasn’t aware of?”

“No, no, of course not,” Baekhyun insists, setting his bucket down. “You didn’t do anything. You’re an angel. As always.”

“An angel,” Minseok laughs. “The kids have started to call me that too. Feels weird when they say it though.”

“And not when I say it?”

“I’m used to it, from you.”

Baekhyun doesn’t bother to stop it this time. It feels good, to laugh with Minseok. So he lets himself laugh and smile, his heart lighter than it had ever felt these past ten years.

“We are okay, right?” Minseok asks, his voice suddenly soft yet piercing through the quiet bubbling of the stream. “Baekhyun?”

He takes a moment, smiling bitterly, but nods eventually - once and curtly. “Of course, we are. We always are.”

When Minseok comes in for perhaps the first hug they’ve had in a long time, Baekhyun is hesitant, but eventually leans forward into his embrace. His arms twitch before they raise to wrap themselves around Minseok. It feels nice, he thinks. He might just be able to live like this. He has Minseok by his side again, and he is unchanged for the most part. He could forget. He could dismiss everything so easily, like he has done before.

The sound of the wind whistling through the tree branches is loud, but it’s a nice change to the quiet that they are so accustomed to. The village is alive with hope, and Baekhyun has just recently gotten back into playing his guitar. This time, he sings old songs that used to croon from old radios, instead of songs that tell dangerous stories. He finds that the children’s reactions are more or less the same, anyhow. They love him regardless.

It’s fine, everything is fine, he thinks. They are rebuilding slowly, day by day, and they have come so far.

Baekhyun allows himself a smile and chances a glance up, over Minseok’s shoulder. He eyes something that makes his smile drop, but just slightly. He’s seen this around more recently these last several weeks, but if he focuses on Minseok’s sweet and warm embrace, he could almost ignore they are there. Baekhyun can turn a blind eye to anything if he’s strong enough.

In the distance, beyond the thin trees and flowing stream, are three dark, looming shadows casted across the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> tag urself I'm the cult worshipping red velvet


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